


Letha

by ReliantWishes



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:25:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReliantWishes/pseuds/ReliantWishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You have to begin to lose your memory, if only in bits and pieces, to realize that memory is what makes our lives. Life without memory is no life at all, just as an intelligence without the possibility of expression is not really an intelligence. Our memory is our coherence, our reason, our feeling, even our action. Without it, we are nothing.” - Luis Bunuel</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "It's Not Fair!"

**Author's Note:**

> Written for missisjoker on the Hobbit-kink meme on Lj.
> 
> Flashback is an excerpt from the book.

The stars twinkled happily in the night sky, almost seeming to mock Bilbo in his grief-stricken state. He swiped a hand over his face, ignoring the burning of his eyes as fresh tears traced the shape of his cheek, sliding down his jaw and dripping from his chin.

In four days, The last true King Under the Mountain and his heirs will be laid to rest deep inside the mountain and Bilbo will have to say his final goodbyes to three dwarfs he had come to care for deeply.

He abandoned the happy starlit sky for the great halls of stone that made up Erebor, wiping the tears from his face. He would not break, not until he was somewhere more private. He would not share his grief with anyone but the very ones that he grieved for.

He quickly took the same path he has taken for the past 2 days, straight to the room holding his dearest friends, his heart aching at the painful memory of the last words he exchanged with Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, King Under the Mountain.

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

"Farewell, good thief. I go now to the halls of waiting to sit beside my fathers, until the world is renewed. Since I leave behind all gold and silver now and go where it is of little worth, I wish to part in friendship from you and take back my words at the gate."

"Farewell, King Under the Mountain!" he had said, filled with sorrow, kneeling down at Thorin's side. "This is a bitter adventure to end so; not even a mountain of gold can amend it. Yet I am glad to have shared in your perils--that has been far more than any Baggins deserves."

"No!" Thorin had replied. "No, there is more good in you than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer above hoarded gold, than this world would be a far merrier one. But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell, Bilbo Baggins."

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

As soon as he entered the room, Bilbo fell to his knees as the memory played over and over through his mind.

Bilbo felt his anger rising and could only sit there and yell as it burst into a bright flame and consumed him. 

"Why?! Why was fate so cruel to you, my friends? To give you back your mountain only to have you fall in defense of it? It's not fair! You should be here, Thorin, you should be welcoming your people back to their true home, instead you are to be buried and only your tomb will welcome visitors now!"

"And what of Kili and Fili, Fate? They were young still, by dwarf rights, but they are to be placed beside their uncle, to become nothing more than dust and memory! IT'S NOT FAIR!"

And quick as a shadow fleeing light, his anger fled, and he fell to the floor unconscious.

Of course, as it is with all great and seemingly foolish ideas, they always come right as a person reaches the end of their tether and   
Bilbo Baggins was no exception. His mind whirled and swirled, memories mixing and stretching on and on, until finally it calmed and one memory kept repeating itself.

As if it was another riddle whispering in the dark, begging to be solved.


	2. A Riddle of Memory

It was on a particularly stormy night, when they were all sequestered away in some cave too small for 13 dwarfs, a hobbit, and a wizard, that Bilbo first heard the language of Kuhzdul spoken. 

Bilbo was tucking into a nice hot stew that Bombur just got finished preparing when a low whistle caught his attention. He looked up to watch Bofur looking out the cave entrance.

"Great Mahal, will this storm ever let up?" He said and gave his head a good scratch before placing his hat back on.

"Excuse me, Bofur, but what does Mahal mean?"

Bofur had the great sense to look sheepish at the question.

"Well, Mahal, well he is the great maker, the revered one."

"So this Mahal," Bilbo stumbled over the word, "he is a deity of sorts?"

Gandalf piped up from his corner of the cave, "My dear Bilbo, Mahal is another name for Aule."

Bilbo's eye's widened, "Oh! Really? How interesting!"

Bofur nodded as Ori sat down right beside Bilbo, "If you'd like, Mister Baggins, I could teach you some of the history of the Dwarfs, that is if Thorin says that it is okay."

The hobbit quickly raised his eyes to meet with those of Thorin's and could only hold his breath.

He let it out in a slow hiss when Thorin nodded, "Only the history of Erebor, Ori, and only what he needs to know. Anything else...."

Ori swallowed visibly. "O-of course, Thorin."

So Ori and Bilbo spent many a quiet evening on the journey talking late into the night about the history of the mountain city known as Erebor, until one night a strange story caught his attention.

"One such story says that when the mountain was first being excavated, Thrain I had stumbled upon a strange cavern that held a river that looked like silver glass-"

Bofur piped up at this, "Aye! Some of the older one say that the river had..strange properties, but they are just stories after all."

Bilbo shook his head, "Well, the elves have waters that are purported to help ease pain and speed the healing of wounds, so It shouldn't be too strange that Lonely Mountain would hold waters such as that."

Ori spoke again, "No, these waters were of a different sort. There is no name in Khuzdul for the river, it is only known as The Forgetting. The myth states that the waters of The Forgetting could grant life to the dead."

Bilbo sat and pondered a bit over the information, but one thing caused him to speak again. "But if it grants life, why it is called The Forgetting?"

The young dwarf shrugged, "Don't know. There are more texts about the mountain in the Chamber of Records. but they were all but lost when Smaug laid siege to Erebor."

After that night, they no longer spoke of The Forgetting, choosing instead to focus on happier pursuits, like the learning of Khuzdul, which Bilbo took delight in learning as too few outsiders are ever allowed to know it. 

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

When Bilbo opened his eyes again, he knew then that if the legend was true, that there was still hope for his friends.

Now all he needed to do was talk to Ori. 

But as he threw his covers back a voice startled him and he jerked his head up to fall upon a familiar face. 

Gandalf the Grey.

"Dwalin found you unconscious in the Grieving Hall and brought you here. My dear boy, whatever happened?"

The hobbit shook his head, "I'd rather not talk about Gandalf. It is rather improper."

"For a hobbit, yes, but you are not in the Shire at the moment. "

Bilbo shook his head, and not wanting to tell Gandalf of the plans newly forming in his mind, opened his mouth and let a half-truth fall from his lips instead.

"Just a bit of the vapors is all. Its having to do with the Baggins side. It happens when we least expect it. All better now." 

He jumped out of his bed, and quickly tidied his blankets and began to edge around Gandalf to reach his door, but the wizard stepped in front of him again.

"My friend are you sure you are well?" The grey wizard asked, concern clear in his voice.

Bilbo nodded quickly, "Y-yes, of course. I just forgot I have something I need to discuss with Ori. It's pertaining to my memoirs-I did tell you that I was writing of my adventures, right? Well, I would be terribly remiss if I put any sentence down to paper that was not truth. Always have the full story, I say."

Gandalf looked at him oddly for a moment and then stepped aside to let him past. "Of course, Bilbo, we wouldn't that, now would we?"

Bilbo didn't need any more incentive than that to dash out of his rooms and break into a run down the halls.

'Now to find a map.'


	3. Stars, Stones, and Silver Threads

He found Ori right where he thought he would. Right in the middle of the Chamber of The Great Records of Erebor.

The Chamber of the Great Records of Erebor was a great circular room with two tall columns at the entrance that seems to vanish into the ceiling. Two levels stretched around the room with stairs carved into the bottom level to give access to the second level, with shelves carved right into the walls itself. 

The dwarf in question was sitting at a large table lit by an oil lamp, humming a happy little tune to himself as he flipped through pages in a small book on his left and wrote in another, much larger one to his right, the soft scritch-scratching of his quill echoing through the spacious room.

"Hullo, Ori!" Bilbo exclaimed, raising a hand in greeting.

Ori turned and a great smile graced his features at the sight of his friend. "Hello, Mister Baggins. I trust you are feeling better now? I heard that Dwalin had found you collapsed in the Greiving Hall." Ori if anything was always polite to everyone and held a genuine interest in their well-being.

'That would be Dori's doing. He is quite the mother hen around Ori and Nori, even the other dwarfs as well.'

Bilbo waved a hand in dismissal, "I'm fine, just a touch of the vapors, nothing serious. I just had something to ask you about."

Ori closed the books that he was working on and turned to Bilbo. "How may I be of service, Mister Baggins?"

"I was wondering if you remembered the story you told me about The Forgetting? I was really curious if there was any more information on it? Strictly for educational purposes of course! I'd be terribly upset if I put anything in my memoirs that wasn't based on actual truth."

Ori's eyes lit up as he clapped his hands together. "Oh! Of course. You are in luck Mister Baggins. I had been going through and cataloguing the tomes and texts that are still here to see if any were missing and I think there are a few books holding information pertaining to it. Let me see here. I had set them aside with a few other books for a bit of light reading later on."

Bilbo stared wide-eyed at the big pile of books in amazement. "That's 'light'?"

Ori shrugged, "I am more a scholar than a warrior. 'Mind over matter.' That's what Dori tells me."

He leaned forward with a small grin, and added, "Dwalin on the other hand wants me to start focusing on learning how to properly fight."

The hobbit watched, with bated breath as Ori started to pull book after book off the pile, flipping through a few pages and putting them aside until he lifted a black leather wrapped book covered with a thick layer of dust. "Ah-ha, here's one of them. Here. I trust you have been keeping up with your Khuzdul?"

Bilbo took it with a nod and opened it; sneezing violently as the dust blew up into his face.

He waved the dust away as he walked to the spare desk in the room and sat down on the stool. He laid the book down and turned to Ori once again.

"Could I bother you for some parchment and ink too?"

Ori grabbed the items without a word and set them beside the book on the table.

"If you need any help at all...do not hesitate to ask."

Bilbo nodded, turned back to the book, took a deep breath and dove right into reading.

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

Time seemed to fly past him as he read and scribbled notes down about this certain person and pertaining to that certain artifact, until at last he turned the final page and saw a small scribbling at the bottom right corner. 

"Ori, there's a passage here I am having trouble making out, would you be able to translate it for me?" Bilbo turned to the young scholar.

Ori nodded, "Let me see it. Which passage is it?"

Bilbo pointed to the part of the text he was reading, "It looks as if it it was added in after the text was originally written. The only word I can make out is bus-bush-ah-ha..buzundush."

The young dwarf nodded again at his words. "It's an rougher dialect of Khuzdul, so I'm not completely sure about the translation. Perhaps Balin-"

"No!" Bilbo exclaimed, adding quickly to cover his tracks, "No, I-I trust your judgement whole-heartedly, Ori."

Bilbo had a strong feeling that if he went to Balin, that the older dwarf would somehow find out what he was up to and at the moment, the fewer dwarfs that knew about this, the better. There was no way in Aule that he was going to be talked out of this.

"Alright, Mister Baggins, from what I can make out, and that's not much, its saying something about following the root of darkness, then seeing stars in the stone. Also something about a silver thread." 

"Stars in the stone?? Root of darkness? Silver thread? Now what does that all mean?"

Ori shook his head, "I'm terribly sorry, Mister Baggins, but like I had stated, I'm not that well-versed on the more ancient dialects of Khuzdul. Master Balin would know more. Perhaps I can discuss it with him." 

Bilbo's sighed dejectedly, "I-alright, lets see what Balin can make of it."


	4. The Riddle Solved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N: It took me a while(like since I started this story) to figure out the Khuzdul and I apologize profusely if this isn't completely Tolkien-verse Khuzdul. (I would like to think of this as an ancient dialect of the Dwarfish language.) So hopefully, I hope everyone likes this chapter.

Balin did happen to know more and he said as much when he was asked about it."You were right to bring this to me, lads. It is a very old dialect, but one I know enough of to be able to translate it for you."

Bilbo's heart pounded in his chest, finally he was making progress!

Ori clapped again at the news, "Wonderful news, Master Balin! May I be permitted to transcribe while you translate?"

Balin nodded at him, "Aye laddie, It would do good to have it written down for Master Baggins to have for his memoirs when they are written."

The older dwarf started to read the passage out loud in the ancient Khuzdul and it was if the earth itself was rumbling beneath them. Pounding and shaking with the force of an earthquake.

**_'Salon thol buzundush nekut nimem onol atil uleng inod. Em nekut il ashok uleng inod ud am. List irol var lam anriz ud Nkil deg. Ral meben atol nir enam zanor unol egen ubal eshim rUsh etom gidur.'_ **

Then all of a sudden, Balin stopped and the air was still and silent, but Bilbo's heart seemed to still beat heavily to the rhythm of the words.

"Now I will try to translate that it into the common tongue, now that I have the passage in my mind." Ori nodded, quill held fast at the ready to notate.

**_"Descend swiftly, deep into the root of darkness the secret of Lonely Mountain and find the lost gate. Speak the secret word lost to time and the gate will open. Gaze north and the stars in the stone sky will point the way to the silver waters of truth. Only one pure of heart and soul may gift a spirit freedom from death through a sacrifice of memory."_ **

Bilbo was momentarily stunned by Balin's translation but was shaken out of it by the last three words. "Balin, if I may ask a few questions pertaining to your translation?"

The older dwarf nodded, "Go right ahead, laddie."

"I was wondering what it meant by 'sacrifice of memory'?"

"That's simple really. It means for the spirit to have their life once again, the one 'pure of heart and soul' must give up their memories. That must be the reason the waters in the story were always called The Forgetting. The chosen one just forgot themselves."

Bilbo swallowed thickly, startled by the new information. _'Could I honestly and truly do this? Would I be willing to completely forget myself to bring him back, to bring them back?'_

“What about this secret word? What would that be pertaining to?” Balin twisted the ends of his beard as he stood there thinking until Ori started speaking. “What if it’s pertaining to the actual word of Forget. There is no known word in khuzdul for forget.” The older dwarf nodded in agreement, “That could very well be true, lad, but we don’t know for certain.” Bilbo sat listening to the two discuss for a while, hooking his fingers in his vest pockets. He stilled when his fingers ran over a tiny, rounded bump in his vest pocket and slowly the wheels began to turn in his mind. ‘Of course…’ 

"Balin, there wouldn't happen to be any maps that were drawn up that show where these waters could be?" He asked once he collected his thoughts.

Balin raised a white, bushy eyebrow at the hobbit, "A rather strange question to ask, Master Baggins. I should think that the translation should be well enough for your memoirs, Master Baggins. There is a map but it is far from finished because no one has ever found the waters of The Forgetting. It is only a myth."

"Yes, but myth is based on part truth isn't it?"

Balin nodded, "Aye, but no truth you will find in this tale. Now I must excuse myself. King Under the Mountain Dain is to soon be holding an audience with The Elf-king Thranduil and Master Bard to arrange the funeral gathering for King Thorin, Son of Thrain."

Bilbo could only nod in response, trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes as he fought back tears. He hopped down from his chair and nodded once again as he took a few steps backwards towards the entrance way.

"Well, then we better be off. I would not want to keep you from your important duties as advisor to the Ki-His Majesty Dain II. Good day, Master Balin." He then turned and bolted out the door.

Ori nodded as well, "Please excuse me as well, Master Balin."

"Excuse is given, young Master Ori." And with that, Ori followed Bilbo out the entrance way as well.

 

 

**/ ~ / ~ / ~ /**

He leaned against the stone wall of the hall, letting his head smack into it. _'You fool. Why didn't you remember it in the first place?'_

The hobbit stopped Ori just as he emerged and spoke quietly. "Ori, would you be able to transcribe a copy of that passage for me? Both the Khuzdul and the translation?"

The young scholar nodded excitedly, gathering his parchment and quills quickly, "Oh, of course, Master Baggins! I will return to the Marzabul immediately!"

With that said, the young dwarf hurried down the corridor to complete the task and to return to cataloging books.

As soon as the young dwarf faded from view, Bilbo looked around him and when he saw no one else but him in the hall, he smiled.

He slowly removed a small, hollow circle of gold from of his pocket and smoothed his fingers over the edge.

He took a breath, let it out slowly, and with a nod, slipped it over his finger and disappeared from view.

_'It's time to live up to the title, 'Master Burglar' once again.'_


	5. Sneaky Little Hobbit

 

 

The world swirled around him in a hazy, bleeding mixture of grey, white, and black as if he was underwater and all the vibrant colors had been washed away by the long passed current.

Bilbo said a quick prayer to Aule that death itself was not as dreary as this world brought forth from wearing that plain-looking, but rather extraordinary gold band.

 

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

 

It was easy enough to slip back into the room, but Bilbo still had to wait for Balin to leave.

He didn't have to wait long when after a half hour of waiting, Balin got up from his seat at his desk.

He gathered together a few scrolls and a large book, took a long look around the room and then walked swiftly out the entrance.

Bilbo waited just a few minutes after Balin left until he was bursting with impatience and he quickly slipped off the ring and pounced on the stack of maps that littered the table next to the great desk where the elder dwarf was just sitting.

_'I have no time to waste. Please, please let the map be on the top somewhere.'_

His saving grace was that fact that Balin was quite orderly in his duties as advisor, much like Ori was in his duties as scholar and keeper of the Chamber of Records.

Each map had a thick ribbon encircling it and [attached](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8905895/4/Letha) to that ribbon was a tag bearing the name of the location the map within showed.

He quickly scanned the tags, mentally repeating a few of them to himself, _'Dale, Gundabad, Mirrormere, Moria…nope.'_

_'E, e, e, where are the e's?'_

He kept looking until he came upon a very old looking map, and knew before looking at the tag that this was the map he was looking for.

The great Map of Erebor.

The very map showing the way to The Forgetting.

The only way to bring back Thorin and his nephews.

He tucked the map into his coat and as he walked out of the room, he disappeared with barely a whisper of wind, when he slipped the ring back over his finger.

_'Step 1[completed](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8905895/4/Letha). Now for Step 2.'_

 

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

 

He made sure to skirt around any dwarfs he came upon, so as not to expose his secret.

It was as he was turning one corner, he noticed an odd sight that stopped him in his tracks.

Dwalin and Ori were standing very close together in one of the smaller, less brightly lit halls.

"Where have you been, lad?" Dwalin asked gruffly, his arms crossed over his chest in his trademark stance.

"I am sorry, Master Dwalin, but I had to help Mister Baggins with some research for his memoirs." Ori replied with a frown and his gaze dropped to the ground.

"Now lad, what did I tell you about frowning?" Dwalin spoke as he lightly touched Ori's jaw, pushing lightly with his fingers so the younger dwarf was looking at him.

Ori had a light dusting of pink across his cheeks and Bilbo's eyes widened even more when Dwalin leaned down and place a chaste kiss upon the scholar's lips.

"I rather like that pretty mouth of yours holding a smile rather than a frown. It makes you look much more fetching."

Ori smiled sweetly, his face a much brighter shade of red, as he reached up and grabbed the leather strap across Dwalin's chest and pulled him down to him, their lips crashing together.

Bilbo quickly continued on, giving the rather odd, but seemingly happy couple their privacy. He quickly sped down the rest of the way, trying to shake his eyes of the image of Dwalin and young master Ori kissing.

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

He stopped when he was back inside his rooms, slipping his ring off again, and placing it back into his vest pocket with a pat.

He quickly grabbed a leather satchel and packed it with the necessary items.

A clean change of clothes, the map, a blanket, and with the leather lashings, attached a bedroll to the top of the bag. The last item he placed in the bag were three empty water-skins. Two he would fill with water for his hopefully short trip and one, well…

That one would stay empty until he found The Forgetting.

If he ever found it at all.

He grabbed his blue, thick fur-lined coat and threw it on. Then he pulled the satchel on and once again pulled out the gold band and slipped it on without a sound.

The next day, the cooks in the great kitchens would have no explanation as to why their pantries were missing 6 apples, 6 biscuits, a quarter block of cheese, and a small bundle of Cram. Bombur would go on to whole-heartily decline any involvement in the disappearance of the a fore-mentioned items.

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

Bilbo made it back to the great library to find Ori working away at the large record book. He spied the smaller book that he had taken down notes in and the piece of parchment holding the translation was right on top of it.

Now if only he could get Ori's attention away from the room for just a moment he could grab both.

He was saved by a deep voice calling the young dwarf's name. "Ori, I thought you said you were done for the day?"

Dwalin strode into the room, looking very much out of place among all the books with his rough features and big muscles.

_'I highly doubt he would even set foot in here if it wasn't for Ori.'_  Bilbo thought with a soft smile at the two.

Ori nodded in agreement, "Just this one last entry and I will be done for the day, my nekut zanor."

Bilbo's eyes widened at the dwarfish endearment.  _'Secret heart? So they must be keeping their being together a secret for now, then. Quite understandable considering Dori's rather over-bearing, at times, mothering nature.'_

Dwalin walked up behind Ori to wrap his arms around him and Bilbo couldn't hear the words Dwalin was whispering into his ears, but from the reddening of Ori's cheeks, he really didn't want to know.

He decided to move while they were busy talking. He quickly moved to the desk and in his impatience to continue on with his quest, he bumped into a chair and before he could grab it, the chair fell to the floor with a loud crash.

Dwalin jumped and turned, his dagger already out and at the ready to attack.

"Who's there! Show yourself, ya coward!"

Bilbo jumped back from the chair and clapped his hand over his mouth in shock.

_'No, oh nonono.'_

Ori gently touched Dwalin's raised arm, which caused the larger dwarf to lower the blade and place it back into its hidden sheath.

"Come Dwalin. It's nothing. Let's go now. I will finish this passage tomorrow."

Dwalin nodded sharply and followed the scholar from the rooms.

When they left, Bilbo let out a sigh of relief.

_'Too close, Bilbo, my boy, much too close.'_

He was such a bundle of nerves that he didn't even bother to remove his ring before he snatched up the sheets of notes he made earlier that day and the sheet with the translation and folded them both before stuffing the notes into his satchel and the translation into his coat pocket.

He moved quickly out of the library and towards the front gate of Erebor, still walking through that hazy, swirling mass of black, grey, and white. It wasn't until he was far from the gate that he removed the ring and pulled the map from his back-pack.

"Well, you're really in it now, aren't you Bilbo. Well then, let's go find this secret gate." Bilbo mumbled to himself and as he took off in the direction the map pointed, munching on an apple, for burgling was quite a hunger-inducing activity for a hobbit, he thought of something else entirely.

_'I really wish Myrtle were here.'_

 


	6. The Root

It took him the better part of the day just walking along the mountainside and still he could not find the 'root of darkness' that the passage spoke of. He came to a small overhang of jagged rock and stopped, looking out at the horizon and just watched the sun for a moment, sinking slowly out of the sky. Its golden rays fading from view, turning the sky into a mix of pinks, oranges, reds, and purples.

He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Well, this will be a good a place as any to sleep for the night."

And he busied himself with making a small fire to give protection and ward off the cold slowly replacing the warmth of the fading sunlight as the night approached swiftly.

He first took a large stick from the flames and made a thorough sweep of the crevice, then he shook out his bedroll and placed it against the wall just inside the opening.

If he learned anything from traveling with 13 dwarfs, it was to always search the area properly for any sign of danger and always sleep with one eye open and a hand on your blade.

Bilbo quickly ate a meal of Cram and cheese before he lashed the bag shut and tucked it behind his bedroll. He then laid down, facing out toward the night sky, and setting Sting right beside him with the blade partially showing.

'Now, some sleep and then tomorrow the search will begin anew.'

He closed his eyes and after a moment of restlessness, he drifted off to sleep.

It was there in that moment, that the strangest dream befell the rather brave hobbit.

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

He was in the same spot, sitting in front of the same fire, but right across from him was a mass of light. Not one color, but many different colors swirling and dancing around each other.

The top half tilted to the side and stayed there, seeming to look at him even with its featureless face.

Bilbo for some reason was not afraid.

Far from it actually.

He felt rather safe in the presence of this strange being of light.

He tried to speak to it. "Hello."

A part of it elongated to form what looked like an arm and then a hand attached to that. It flexed its fingers and drew them back towards itself as if it was beckoning Bilbo.

"W-what do you want?"

It continued the motion as it moved backwards from the fire. Bilbo stood slowly, so as not to startle the creature and walked around the flames, following it.

Once he was on the other side of the fire, it disappeared and reappeared in a flash to float behind him, right where he had been sitting before.

And once again it motioned to him to follow it.

"Do you want me to follow you?"

It nodded its head, if it could be called that, and floated backwards into the outcropping.

Bilbo took hesitant steps toward the outcropping and when he felt a brush against his mind, he stopped entirely.

"Why?"

It tilted its head at him before a voice whispered in his mind. Adas…inod…am…

"Entrance….gate…open?" Bilbo translated questioningly.

The swirling lights and colors flared so brightly that he had to shield his eyes momentarily.

When he lowered his hands, the being was gone; he was alone beside the fire once more and he could not explain why it left a painful ache of loneliness deep within his chest.

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

He awoke with a start to find that that it was barely dawn and the fire had died sometime in the night.

Bilbo shook his head to try to clear his mind, but the memory of that creature of lights and colors would not leave him.

It was as if it were still there, beckoning to him to follow it.

He just sat there looking into the darkness of the crevice until golden rays of light lit the ground around him.

'Descend swiftly into the root of darkness…'

With that thought his body jerked and he jumped to his feet.

"Of course! Why didn't I remember that! A cave is sometimes called a mountain's root!"

He quickly kicked dirt over the campfire, making sure than any remaining embers were snuffed out. Then he quickly rolled up his bed and lashed that to his bag, throwing it onto his back.

He stood facing the out-cropping again.

'Well, like mum used to say, never leave anything to chance…and always wipe your feet before going in the house.' Bilbo thought with a smile, shaking his head.

"Now let's find that secret gate."

And with his head held high, he walked into the dark of the small cave.

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

"Now why did the one thing I forgot have to have been a lantern?" Bilbo muttered to himself after he stumbled yet again in the pitch black of the cave.

"I don't even know what time it is, but considering it's so blasted dark down here I wouldn't be able to figure it out in the first place! Even with a lantern!"

After he stumbled again and banged his knee against a rock, he stopped, growled and threw his hands up in frustration.

"Blast this cave! Blast this journey! And blast you, Thorin!"

The last of his words caused a choked sob to escape his throat. He slumped against the wall of the pitch black cave.

"Blast you Thorin! Why did you have to be so damned stubborn and so damned blind to not see the truth!? Why!?"

His eyes stung with the burning of unshed tears as flashes of a memory long past hit him full force.

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

"You! You!" cried Thorin, turning upon him and grasping him with both hands. "You miserable hobbit! You undersized—burglar!" he shouted at a loss for words, shaking poor Bilbo like a rabbit.

"By the beard of Durin! I will throw you to the rocks below!" he cried and lifted Bilbo in his arms. Only stopping when Gandalf appeared.

I am betrayed," he had said. "It was rightly guessed that I would not forbear to redeem the Arkenstone, the treasure of my house. Take this traitor with you, if you wish him to live; and no friendship of mine goes with him."

Bilbo had called out to them all as he left from the wall.

Farewell!" he had cried out. "May we meet again as friends!"

But Thorin, beset by gold lust of the dragon's hoard, had only stood there glaring at him, shaking silently from his rage and only threatened to sting his feet should he tarry too long.

So he left, only to end up standing among the elves at the sidelines, wearing that golden ring, and watching, helpless, as the armies clashed and crashed, beat and bashed one another, until a stone met his head and he fell into the sweet darkness of unconsciousness.

And the next time the hobbit and the Dwarf King met was only to say their goodbyes.

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

The tears freely fell from his eyes, flowing in tiny rivers down over his cheeks, the dripping sound echoing off the cave walls softly.

"Maybe it is for the best to forget myself, if only-"

A very loud scrapping sound drowned out the dripping of his tears and he felt a rumbling from underneath him and remembering much of Goblins, he jumped up, but was much too late.

The wall behind him gave way and he fell backwards with a shout. He tried flailing his arms this way and that but nothing could stop him from falling down into a rather slick water-logged tunnel.

He slid and slid down the tunnel. Faster and faster, down and down farther still.

Until finally he came to a sudden stop, his head meeting a rock much like the one on the battlefield and like that one, he met the darkness of unconsciousness quite quickly.


	7. The Forgetting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive!! I swear I am still working this story, just wanted to get the next few chapters done before I uploaded again.

As Bilbo slowly regained his consciousness, a series of voices echoed through his throbbing skull.

'For a moment there I thought we almost lost our burglar.'

'He's been lost the moment he stepped out of his door. He's nothing more than a burden.'

'I wish you the best in your life. I really do.'

'I have never been more wrong in all my life.'

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

As the pained dulled to nothingness, his eyes adjusted to the dim light around him.

'Dim light?' When he came to the realization that there was indeed a faint light surrounding him, he tried to quickly jump to his feet, but a slight twinge from his skull slowed his movements. When he finaly reached his feet, he looked around him, not so quickly, again, and then finally, looking up, he gasped in shock at what he found to be the source of the light.

"Stars in the stone sky...Great Aule! It literally means stars caught inside the stone. Amazing!"

Thousands of small lights, blinked and twinkled back at him. All converging together to create enough brightness for him to see a path worn into the cave floor, surrounded by hundreds of jagged rocks in sizes large and small and all sizes in-between. The walls of the cave were taller than the great gate of Erebor and wider than two Bag-ends placed together end to end and to a Hobbit of Bilbo's size and stature, that was much larger than he cared to think about.

He was still standing there in awe of the sight before him, when a faint echo of noise caught his attention.

It sounded very much like dripping water. His body jolted at the thought. 'Could it really be that close?'

Just then a drop of water plopped wetly onto his face as if to answer him.

He pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket and wiped the water from his face.

Another drop fell in front of him, the soft light was caught within the drop and when it burst upon the cave floor, it fractured into a dozen tiny, bright beads, before fading completely.

He took a step forward, his foot landing on top of where the last drop landed. That in turn caused another drop of illuminated water to drop before him.

He looked up at the stone ceiling, watching in silent awe as with each step forward that he took, the softly glowing orbs caught within freed themselves, sliding across the stone, and blending with each other, pooling together as if becoming a river of liquid starlight, flowing like a great serpent above his head, drop after drop breaking away from the tail to drip down before him, lighting up the cave floor, and creating a gleaming path of pale, soft white brilliance.

Bilbo's breath caught and his heart pounded in his chest at the beauty of the sight. 'And who ever said that beauty could not be found in rock and stone?'

"Gaze north and the stars in the stone sky will point the way to the silver waters of truth."

Bilbo, tugging the straps of his pack to tighten them, thought aloud to himself, "Well, this is certainly one way to do it."

He followed the path slowly, almost reverently, until the last drop fell and flared into a brilliant, blinding flash of light, then faded, leaving behind a great opening in the rock wall.

Bilbo stumbled forward, trying to shake the spots from his eyes, until his feet stepped into something wet with a small splash.

He stilled and looked down, then up in absolute shock.

"The Forgetting. It does exist."

There before him was an ordinary stream of silvery water, fed by a tiny trickle of water flowing down from above.

A rush of emotions hit him and he dropped to his knees as tears fell from his eyes, and a sob caught in his throat.

'Only one pure...'

Bilbo pulled the pack from his back, setting it beside him. He dug through it until his hands found the empty water-skin he had brought just for this purpose.

'...of heart and soul...'

He pulled it from the bag and looked at it for a moment before he uncorked it slowly, his hands slightly shaking and they shook even more as they brought the bag to the silver waters and dipped it under.

'…may grant a spirit…'

As it slowly filled, his eyes closed slowly and a whisper of a prayer fell from his lips, pleading for forgiveness from Aule, for what he was doing.

'…the gift...'

When the bag was full, he pulled it up and secured the cork tightly and made a quick check over it for any sign of leaks. He gave a heavy sigh and stood up.

'...of freedom from death…'

A bright light flared again and he turned his head in its direction. The creature of light and color was there again, beckoning to him with a hand.

'…through a sacrifice of memory.'

He gave one last look back at the silvery stream and giving a quick nod, turned away to follow the rainbow lit being.

The pack was left behind, completely forgotten.

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

Once he reached the being, he was stopped by a slight pressure against his chest.

A chorus of voices echoed throughout his mind.

"nir deg, nir atol. Enam zanor, Enam unol. Eshim ubal, etom gidur."

"One way. One truth. A pure heart. A pure soul. To free a spirit, sacrifice your memory."

Bilbo nodded, "I know that. I will do it. I will bring them back."

The creature tilted it's head to the side as if asking silently, 'Them?'

He nodded again, "Three of them. All are kin to one another. Two brothers and their uncle."

Bilbo feels pressure against his chest again and looks down to see a swirling mass of light and color laying over where his heart slowly beat beneath.

He looked back up at it and nodded, understanding what it was asking perfectly this time. "Yes, I do care about them. All three of them. They didn't deserve to die that way, not when they-I mean, Fili and Kili had never even seen Erebor, and as soon as they did, they ended up dying protecting their uncle and King. They wer-are still so young."

Bilbo didn't know why he was saying all this, but it felt like he had to. As if this was a test to see if his intentions were true, so he didn't stop.

"Thor-Thorin, that's Kili and Fili's uncle. He…he's strong, courageous, and a borne leader, although he is rather stubborn and thick-headed at times. His very presence commands attention and respect. His voice, heh, his voice has the ability to strike fear and awe at the same time. Every time he spoke at the beginning of our journey I would have shivers trailing up and down my spine for almost half the night afterwards. I thought at first I was just afraid of him and I guess a part of me was."

'Tell?' The creature pushed against his chest gently as it's voice echoed through his mind.

Bilbo was confused, "Tell? Tell you about what?"

The light that was the being flared to life. 'Journey. Tell?'

Then almost suddenly he understood what he was being asked. "You want to hear about our journey here?"

The being flared against in assent.

"Okay, this may take a while. I better make myself more comfortable." He settled down onto the ground, gently laying the water-skin across his lap.

He took a deep breathe and then began to tell his story.

"In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a dirty nasty hole, nor a dry, empty one. But a hobbit hole and that meant comfort…."

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

He could not tell how much time passed as he told his story, but he felt his heart fill with warmth as he spoke of each of the dwarfs that at first he disliked very much, but as he grew to understand them and their ways, he found them endearing themselves to his heart and none more than Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews, Fili and Kili. Enough that he was going to try and bring them back from the dead.

He laughed maniacally at the absurdity of it all, "All of this is absolutely and utterly insane. I'm insane! That's it's, I'm completely off my rocker! Hah! I'm here, talking to a strange creature of light and color and planning on bringing back three dead people back to life! One of whom I'm completely and utterly in-"

His rant melted into great heaving sobs that wracked his small frame as the truth hit him square in the face.

The rainbow-lit being flickered in and out of semi-solidity in response to the pain Bilbo was showing in that moment. It wrapped the stretched tendrils that made up its arms around itself and faded from sight, a dark grey tear falling from its white pupil-less eyes, and a silent cry falling from its lip-less mouth.

"Great Aule…I'm in-no, nonono. He's a dwarf king, I'm a hobbit burglar, and not a very good one at that. Nothing can come of this."

He stood up quickly, shaking his head and angrily wiping the tears from his face, but they fell faster than he could.

With a scream he raised the water-skin to throw it but stopped at the sound of the water sloshing inside. He slowly brought it back to his chest, finally letting the tears fall freely.

"Nothing can come of this, not now. Not when I'll forget him, when I'll forget everything."

He looked up, just then remembering the light being, but it was nowhere to be seen. He looked around himself in shock, but still couldn't find it. He pulled a hand down over his face and tried to pull himself back together.

"Come on, old boy. You need to get your head back on straight. You have a job to do. A quest to complete. Now, let's go."

He turned and continued to walk the dimly light path until he came to stand in front of a wall of stone.

It was a dead end.

"No. NO!" He slowly approached the wall, his knees locking and unlocking in secession, causing his steps to appear awkward and sluggish.

"Please. Please no! P-please, not now! Not when I'm so close!"

He stumbled blindly forward, and laid a hand against the cool rock wall, which of course caused a cracking sound to echo around him. He pulled his hand back in shock.

'What's happening now?!'

More than a thousand tiny fissures of light began to burst from the wall, stretching to meld seamlessly into what looked to be the outline of a small stone door. He walked through it just to find himself directly across from the door to the Grieving Hall.

'So there is more than one hidden door in Erebor. I doubt even Thorin's father and or even his grandfather knew about it. Fascinating!'

He looks back and forth down the hallway and when he sees no one approaching from either direction, he bolts out of the secret opening, jogging quickly across the way and slips inside the room with barely a whisper of sound.

There was no markings or indication of any kind that there had ever been a secret opening in that stone wall, with how seamless it melted back into the rock surrounding it.


	8. 'Losing Your Memory...'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the chapter everyone has been waiting for. I listened to 'Losing your Memory' by Ryan Star and 'Goodbye for Now' by Two Steps From Hell on repeat for this chapter alone.

'Call all your friends  
Tell them I'm never coming back  
'Cause this is the end  
Pretend that you want it, don't react

The damage is done  
The police are coming too slow now  
I would have died  
I would have loved you all my life

You're losing your memory...now'

 

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

 

Once inside, he stands for a second, just staring at the still forms laying on stone before him.

Taking another deep breath, he looks down at his hands at the bag containing the water that is going to change everything.

He nods once and moves to stand close beside Fili.

"Fili, I will have you know that if I had ever been graced with a brother, I would've liked him to be like you. Brave, courageous, tricky, in the good sense now mind you, caring and fiercely protective of those you deem fit to call your kin. I know that when Thorin places the crown on your brow, it will be with pride because you will be a great king to Erebor as well."

With his words said, he parts the young dwarf's lips, uncorks the water-skin and tips it over to let a ting trickle splash over Fili's lips and down his throat.

He moved close to Kili, repeating the same process.

"Kili, you are brave and courageous as well. With a bright and fun personality that shines even brighter next to your brother. You may be the second of Thorin's heirs, but I know he treats you with the same care and respect. Your brother will rule in safety because of you. I know you will keep him safe from all harm, just as he will do the same for you. Do not forget to have fun. Both of you."

As with Fili, Bilbo tipped the skin once again another small trickle of water flows down past Kili's lips and into his throat as well.

He turns and stops moving. His eyes sting from the burn of quickly forming tears.

"Thorin."

He just stands there looking at the ice-cold features of the last King Under The Mountain.

Slowly, he takes measured steps forward until he is standing right beside his face.

"You know, I always wanted to tell you that I admire you Thorin. I admire you for your courage to charge head first into battle, with no regard for death. I don't think for one second that you feared your enemies. That showed in your ferocity and your straightfoward tenacity for putting to right what was wrong. You also show a great and unyielding love and loyalty for and to your kinfolk. You will be the greatest king Erebor has and will ever know. Hopefully only surpassed by the reign of your nephew, Fili."

A chorus of low twin groans caught his attention and he looked up at the slowly breathing forms of Fili and Kili.

Fili slowly turned his head to face Bilbo, and his eyes carefully opened, widening further when he saw the hobbit.

Bilbo nodded, his eyes burning with unshed tears. "So, it is true. The waters really do work. You see, Thorin, you and your nephews can finally see Erebor back to its true glory."

He leaned over Thorin's face, caressing the cold cheek of the dwarf king, and whispered, "I am sorry, but I have to go now and I don't know if I will be coming back at all. This is terribly rude of me, I know." He broke off with a harsh laugh.

"B-B..Bil..bo, w-wh-" Fili fell into a great hacking cough that rocked his frame.

The hobbit ignored the broken speech of the young dwarf and continued to speak.

"Hobbits never leave without a proper farewell, but I suppose this will have to do."

He leaned closer still and pressed his warm mouth against Thorin's icy one, and pulling away just a bit, their lips still lightly touching, he whispered his farewell. "Goodbye, my nir aval."

Bilbo steps back and without preamble or hesitation, he tips the water-skin over Thorin's mouth, letting the waters inside slowly drip down and with each plip-plop of the water hitting the dwarf-king's mouth, a memory faded from Bilbo's mind.

Drip.

Gone is the Shire and Bag-End.

Drop.

Gone are his Mother and Father.

Plip.

Gone is Gandalf the Grey and his lovely fireworks.

Plop.

Gone are the trolls, the Mountains, and the riddles in the dark.

Drip.

Gone are the spiders, the barrels down the river, and the Battle of 5 Armies.

Drop.

Gone were 12 dwarfs and their great leader, whose arms were like soft steel and eyes like the sky caught in ice.

Gone was the great dragon and it's golden hoard.

And with the last drop of life upon those cold lips…

Gone was Bilbo Baggins.

Thorin's frame jolted and shuddered as life filled his veins yet again. He uttered a low groan and fell still once again.

The hobbit blinked in bewilderment, "Now how did I get here? And where is here exactly?"

He looked around him and found himself in a great stone room with three bodies. He jumped back in terror.

"Oh dear me! Oh dear, de-dea-dead bodies!" He exclaimed in fright.

Fili succeeded in reaching a hand out to him, "B-Bilbo."

The hobbit screamed and turning around, he ran from the room like an arrow loosed from a bow.

He ran and ran through the halls, and for some odd reason, one he couldn't explain straight away, he was finding himself blinking back tears.

He ran out the great gates, clutching his chest, his heart felt like it was breaking into a thousand pieces within.

And he didn't know why.


	9. Something Strange is Going On...

 

The meeting hall was large, like all the halls in Erebor, but the walls here were covered in rich tapestries brought from the Iron Hills.

Deep blue threads were weaved together with reds, browns, and golds, the very edges were lined with ancient khuzdul runes and each corner showed one of the great kingdoms of the khazad. The very center was reserved for showing the great ancestry of the dwarfs, starting from the very first dwarf, Durin I, and preceding down the line to the most recent.

A great table hewn from solid marble stood in the center of the room with marble chairs with cushioned seats. Goblets of pure silver were being refilled by servants that flitted in and out of the double doors of solid oak.

At the head of the table sat none other than the current King Under the Mountain, Dain II and at his right sat Balin, Son of Fundin. 

"You may begin, Master Balin."

With a nod to Dain, Balin began to speak, excitement dancing in his eyes. "Your majesty, I am most pleased to annouce that considerable progress has been made in the library, with great thanks to Master Ori and his fast hands and even faster eyes. The mines are also fast approaching full percentages of gathered ore. Soon the forges will be able to work at a faster pace, increasing our production by at least twenty-five percent. Fifteen percent more than last checked!"

Dain nodded, "That is most welcome news, Master Balin, and what of the funeral arrangements for King Thorin II and his esteemed nephews?"

The excitement led from his eyes and Balin solemnly nodded. "There are dwarfs heading to the Grieving Hall to prepare them as we speak."

Dain nodded, "I understand that your brother, Master Dwalin has volunteered to be one of the dwarfs to do so?"

"Aye, King Thorin and my brother fought together on the fields of battle and it was he who taught young Princes Fili and Kili how to wield sword and axe, although Prince Kili turned out to be much more proficient at the bow. He feels that it is his duty to do this."

"He feels that he failed them and wants to do this as a way of apologizing, then?"

Balin nodded, a slight smile on his face. "Aye, Your Majesty, although, you'd never hear him admit it."

A chuckle rumbled up from Dain's chest. "Aye, a proud one he is."

"Aye, Your Majesty, that he is. That he is."

 

/ ~ / ~ / ~ / 

 

A group of about five dwarfs completely dressed in black tunics and trousers walked down the hall to the Greiving Hall, lead by Dwalin, who's face held a painful look.

His mind raced with each step closer to the hall. He had never once visited since the bodies of his friend and king and the young princes were placed inside. He showed himself to be strong on the outside, but only his brother Balin and the young scribe Ori knew how difficult it was to even see them laying there, lifeless. 

Out of all of them, only he and Balin had spent the most time with the lads. He had failed to protect either one of them and now he could naught but prepare their bodies for their tombs.

That's when a faint memory swam to the forefront of his mind and he caught hold of it with every fiber of his being.

The first time he met those young lads, they were mere boys, but so very full of life. 

Just what they needed during the settling in at the Blue Mountains.

 

/ ~ / ~ / ~ / ~ /

He was at the training yard that day, like so many other days, but this day turned out to be different.

He was practicing with his axes, Grasper and Keeper that day. Cutting and slicing at the hay and cloth dummies surrounding him, turning them into nothing more than kindling when suddenly a cheer caught his ear.

He turned and looked toward the fence and standing there was his friend and King, Thorin, but he was not alone. There were two small boys with him. 

He nodded his head at his friend, who motioned him over with a jerk of his head.

Dwalin placed the axes back into their holders on his back, grabbing a rag from his belt and dabbed at the sweat rolling down his face and neck as he walked over to the fence that separated the training yard from the crowds that would sometime form. 

When he reached it, he grabbed at the waterskin Thorin had held out to him, watching with a small smile as the boys retreated quickly to hide behind his friend's legs.

He winked at the two of them when they peeked their heads out again, causing them to quickly hide yet again.

Thorin rolled his eyes, "Kili. Fili. Come out from behind me and meet my good friend, Master Dwalin."

"Dwalin, these are my sister-sons, my heir Fili and his brother Kili."

Dwalin nodded at the two of them and kneeled on the ground in front of them.

"It's alright, laddies. No harm will come to you from me."

The boys peeked out from either leg at the exact same time, one light haired and one dark haired, but both perfectly in tune with each other.

The blonde haired boy was the first to speak, "Hullo, Mister Dwaling. Ima Fili."

The dark-haired boy was the next to speak, "An im Kili! An Ima gonna be a mighty warrior sumday like uncle!"

Fili gave a shove to Kili, shaking his head at him, "Nuh-uh! Ima gonna be like uncle sumday!"

The arguement became a wrestling match as they both fell to the dirt.

Dwalin looked at the two boys then up at Thorin, who again rolled his eyes, as if to say 'You see the trouble they already are?'

He chuckled at the two of them, "Well, if you two are gonna be mighty warriors like your Uncle Thorin, then you better start training. Your uncle here started training at the age of 13." 

They stopped wrestling and stood up, side by side, completely covered head to toe in dust.

"Now, how old are ye two?"

Both Fili and Kili's heads dropped. 

Fili was the one to speak, "I'm 10 and Kili's only 8."

Dwalin let out a snort of laughter. "That's perfect, laddies! You can start with the lighter wooden swords and work your way up as you get older." 

At the growing excitement in their eyes, Dwalin quickly added, "That is, if your uncle says its okay."

The gruff warrior looked back up at his friend, the two boys watching their uncle with wide eyes, barely breathing in their anticipation. 

When he nodded his assent, the two boys gave a whoop and tackled Dwalin to the ground.

Dwalin gave a shout in shock at the quickness of their assault, but he was not angry, he laid there on his back, in the dirt, laughing at the two lads jumping up and down in their enthusiasm.

  
And none laughed louder at the sight than Thorin Oakenshield himself.

 

  
/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

 

  
He shook his head of the memory and continued on to the Halls of Grieving.

  
They paused before the door, bowing their heads in silence, preparing themselves for their task.

  
A faint scratching sound caught Dwalin's ear and when he went to open the door, it flew open and out bolted the Hobbit. It shocked all the dwarfs, including Dwalin, so much that Bilbo was through their group before they could grab him.

  
"Halfling!" He called out, but it was far too late, Bilbo was nowhere in sight.

  
He moved to follow, but a small mumbling sound and a thump from inside the hall pulled him back.

  
Dwalin tilted his head at the door and pulled a dagger from his belt and motioned to the others to be quiet with a finger over his lips.

He quickly flattened himself against the wall facing the open crack of the door, and slowly opened it further, his dagger held at the ready. When the door was open all the way, he saw the body of Fili laying upon the ground. He just as quickly sheaths his dagger and runs over to the body.

  
"Two of ye give me a hand here! Now!"

  
The two dwarfs closest to the door ran to his aid and as they lifted the body, a soft moan escaped Fili's lips.

  
The three of them near dropped him in shock. 

Dwalin's eyes widened and when they gently set back onto the slab of stone, he pressed a hand to the young Prince's wrist and when he felt a faint pulse, his heart pounded in his chest and his blood near ran cold.

"Laddie?"

Fili's eyes slowly opened, and he mumbled his name softly. "Mis..ter...Dwa-dwalin?"

It was like a punch to his gut and he yelled at the others, "Go and get Oin! And my brother Balin!"

When they didn't budge, he looked up and screamed, "NOW!"

They stumbled and scrambled over themselves to get out that door and into the hallway.

Dwalin turned back to Fili and grabbed his hand in his. 

"It's alright now, laddie. You'll be alright."

_'By Durin's beard, how is it possible?'_

A low, raspy voice broke through his racing thoughts, "Dwa..lin?"

Dwalin could scarcely believe his ears dropping Fili's hand and slowly standing. When he turned around, he saw two more pairs of eyes staring right back at him. 

He stumbled back and fell to the floor in numbing shock. 

"You-you're alive? All of ye?! By Durin's beard!"

 

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

 

The soft tendrils of a tiny whisper tickled at the edge of Gandalf's mind, catching his attention, and he turned his eyes to the east, narrowing them in wordless thought.

  
_'Now what ever was that?'_

  
"I believe that I am overdue a visit back to Erebor."

  
At the touch of another whisper in his mind, he pulled his reins back and to the side, turning his horse the direction his eyes were pointed in, and dug his heels into the steed's sides, spurring the horse to a galloping pace.

"Yes, quite overdue!"

 


	10. The Darkness Falls/Breathing Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter is 'Tortured Heart' by Gothic Storm and 'Breathe' by Two Steps from Hell.

 

As soon as he was out the giant doors, he threw up his arms at the bright light nearly blinding him. When his eyes adjusted to the brightness, he looked around him, confusion filling his features. Finally he turned

completely around and his eyes widened at the sight before him.

'Now what place is this?' There stood before him was a giant gate, slightly blackened as if fire had licked at the edges at one point. At either side were large statues of armored figures kneeling with [axes](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8905895/9/Letha) in hand.

The sight struck a chord deep within him and he grabbed his chest once more at the pain, dropping to his knees.

His eyes tingled, and when he reached a hand up to rub over them, he was shocked when he pulled it back to find it wet with his tears.

His chest felt like it was on fire and he didn't know why.

It hurt to try and remember.

He gave a groan as he clutched his head with one hand and the other clutched at the ground beneath him.

"What is this place? And why am I crying! Well, for that matter, just who the hell am I!"

A voice interrupts him, "Are you alright, my friend?"

The small man jumps up in fright and turns around. When he sees who had spoken to him, he takes a [step](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8905895/9/Letha) back and raises his hands.

"Wh-who...what are you?" He asked.

The odd man with the even odder hat shook his head at him, "What are you on about, Bilbo? You know who I am."

'Bilbo?'

The man with the hat took a step toward him, reaching out a hand, causing him to take another step back.

He stopped when he saw this, "Bilbo? Are you alright?"

"Bilbo? Just who is this Bilbo?"

The man tilted his head in confusion, "Why, you're Bilbo of course! I think we better get you to the healer, my friend. Come on."

When he again reached out, the halfling in front of him shook his head vehemently.

"No! I don't know you, why should I go with you? For all I know you could be making this all up."

"Bilbo, it's me, Bofur. Don't you remember me?"

Another shake of the head, "If I did know I would remember you! I would, wouldn't I? But I don't! I don't even know who I am! So tell me again why should I go with you?!"

Bofur tried again to approach his friend, "Now there, no need for yelling. Come with me, and we'll get you to a healer, then we'll see about helping ya remember."

He was finally close enough to the hobbit, but when he laid a hand on his shoulder, the hobbit jumped back as if burned.

"No! No, no, no!"He cried out as clutched his head in both of his hands.

Pain filled Bofur's eyes as he watched his friend cry out. Again he reached out and this time he was able to place a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Bilbo flinched and looked up at him, and then behind him as he heard a scraping and clanking sound, as if two pieces of metal were being rubbed and ground across each other.

His eyes widened at the sight of something wide and metal clad approaching them from the gate and in its hand was a large weapon that looked particularly sharp.

He brushed the hand from his shoulder and starting backing away slowly, shaking his head with each step back. It was when he saw another of the metal clad figures approaching that he finally turned and broke off into a run.

He didn't look back once, not even when the strange bearded man named Bofur yelled after him to wait.

He ran and ran, making his flight over hillside and into the trees and when he heard noises behind him, he ran more and more until his lungs were burning and screaming for air, but he did not feel pain. Fear coursed through his veins, fueling him further on into the trees.

He stopped when the burning in his chest got too much for him even with the adrenalin coursing through him.

He looked around him and it was then that he noticed with growing dread that light was fading fast from the sky.

The sun was setting.

He stopped.

Soon it would be dark.

Howls rent the air around him.

He was alone.

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

Bofur looked behind him and cursed at the sight of the guards behind him.

_'Well, that was quite a helping hand.'_

"Bilbo, wait!" He began to run after the hobbit, but by Mahal that hobbit was fast.

He lost him quite quickly. Too quickly. He needed help.

He turned and jogged back to where the guards stood and glared at them. "Thanks to you two, he's out there all alone, with no memories and its getting dark! And on top of that there are wargs out there!"

The dropped their heads in embarassment.

Bofur nodded, "You should be ashamed of yourselves. Keep an eye out here for him. If he comes back, send word straightaway. Do you got that? Straightaway."

The guards nodded in assent. For who were they to argue with one of the 13 who saved Erebor.

He ran past them and through the great gates, his words echoed back to them. "I'm going to go have a talk with Master Balin about a search party!"

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

Dain nodded to Balin, "What other items are on the agenda for today?"

Balin grabbed a scroll of parchment that sat in front of him, "It seems that all items for today have been discussed, Your Majesty."

Dain stood, and Balin, in a show of respect, stood as well.

The King Under the Mountain opened his mouth to speak again, but a mufled commotion at the door caught his ear.

"What in Durin's name is going on out there?"

Balin shook his head, "I do not know, Your Majesty. Might I investigate?"

"Aye, Balin."

Balin gave a short bow and moved away from the table and out the oak doors. There standing before him was a very much out of breath dwarf.

He looked at Balin and asked in a winded voice, "Are you Master Balin?"

Balin nodded. He noticed the dwarf was pale, extremely so, and struggling to catch his breath. He motioned to one of the servants.

"Fetch him some water and be quick about it!"

When the servant returned a moment later with the water, Balin herded the wheezing dwarf to a nearby bench and held the goblet of water to his lips.

When the dwarf began to greedily chug the water, Balin gently spoke, "Easy now, easy. You don't want to get sick."

With those words, the dwarf stopped his drinking.

"Now laddie, what is all this commotion about?"

The dwarf turned wide eyes upon him, "Master Dwalin asked me to find you. It is urgent that you go to the Grieving Hall."

Balin jerked back in shock, "Now whatever for?"

"It's a miracle. A miracle from Mahal. A miracle I tell you!"

"What is?"

"Prince Fili, milord, he's alive."

The servants surrounding them gasped in shock.

Balin's mind lurched as he stood up from the bench. The other dwarf moved the stand as well, but Balin shook his head.

"Stay here and rest. I will return shortly. All of you be quiet about this until I have investigated further."

With that said he turned and quickly strode down the hall.

**'He's alive...'**

With those words settling in his mind, his feet picked up speed and soon he was running through the halls, the fast pace whipping the gathering moisture from his eyes.

_'The line of Durin is not so easily broken, indeed.'_


	11. A Race for Answers and Dancing with Wargs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The music for this chapter is in three parts. The first part is 'Last Crusade' by Tilman Sillescu. The second part is 'The Hobbit - Misty Mountains (Dwarven Song) Violins' (An amazing version of it by the way. Check it out.) by Taylor Davis. The third part is 'Wolf Attack' from the Clan of the Cave Bear OST. (Track 10)

The tendrils tickling at the edges of his mind flicked and fluttered and the chilling sensation of dread filling him grew stronger.

Something was wrong in Erebor. He didn't know what it was yet, but Bilbo was somehow and the forefront of his mind, which wasn't a good sign in the slightest at all.

'I must make haste or I fear I may be too late!'

Gandalf dug his heels into his mount's sides yet again. "Yah! Faster, my friend!"

The horse's hooves dug in with more force and it began to gallop as if there were warg snapping at it's heels.

The grey wizard whispered a quick prayer to the Valar that his horse would hold out for the pace and above all else he would make it there in time.

'In time for what?' Was the question he pondered as his steed took him over ranges, wading through rivers, and winding through darkened forests. Closer and closer to the front gates of Erebor.

'I only hope that you are safe, Bilbo!'

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

Once Bofur was inside, he had to skid to halt at the last moment to keep from crashing into a rather familiar red haired dwarf.

"Sorry about that, Gloin." He tipped his hat to the other dwarfs with him, "My apologies to you to, ma'am, and you too, young master."

The dwarf gave a shout of friendly recognition before clapping a hand to the miner's shoulder. "Bofur! No harm done, my friend. I wanted to introduce you to my lovely wife Tula and my boy, Gimli. How are ya?"

"Ma'am. Master Gimli. I am as well as can be expected at the moment."

Gloin's face fell into a puzzled look, "Whatever do ye mean by that?"

"It's has to do with Master Baggins. I was going to-"a flash of red and white at the edge of his vision caught his attention and caused him to stop speaking.

'Well, I'll be...was that Balin?'

Gloin voiced Bofur's thoughts, "Was that Master Balin?"

They both turned to face the direction the flash had gone and confirmed that it was indeed Balin running down the hall toward the Grieving Hall.

"Balin!" Bofur yelled out.

The older dwarf just raised a hand back at him, not slowing down the least bit.

"Now where is he going? Is he late for something?" Gloin asked him.

Bofur shook his head, as much confused by the older dwarf's action as his friend was.

"My friend, I think I better be following Balin. I have a feeling that all the strange happenings today might have to do with Master Baggins somehow."

'Might as well, seeing as I do need to speak to him about how strange Bilbo is acting.'

Gloin nodded his head. "I'll be going with ye, my friend."

He turned to the two dwarfs next to him.

"My dear Tula, I'll be back shortly and Gimli, my boy, you behave for your mother."

Bofur tipped his hat in farewell before tugging his hat down more snug over his head, nodded to Gloin, and both took off at a run after Balin down the hallway.

The dwarfs surrounding them jumped out of the way, some with a yell of anger, most with a shout of confusion.

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

He shivered from both the cold and the fear coursing through him.

The howls were getting louder, which meant that whatever was making the noise was getting closer and here he was, all alone, no weapon, and most of all no memories.

He had no memory of this place, therefore he didn't know where to go or what to do.

He looked around him and saw that he was standing next to a large rock.

A rustling of leaves and the pounding of multiple feet caused his heart to race. He grabbed at a large branch that laid on the ground and clutching it to his chest, he flattened himself against the rock. He could only hope that help would find him before whatever it was found him first.

But his hope would be cut short by the click-clacking of claws against the large rock he hid against.

He looked up and could barely make out the shape of a large jaw and even larger teeth.

A snuffling sound to his left and right caught his attention. A large head popped out from both sides of the rock.

That made three.

The click-clacking of more claws caught his ear and with a snarl a large creature landed to the front of him, its face pointed away from him.

It raised it nose in the air and started to sniff until it turned around suddenly.

It's eyes locked with his and dread filled him.

It stood there watching him, the other two flanking the right and left.

There was no escape.

He clutched the stick tighter in his hands digging it into his chest. That was when he noticed something was in his pocket. Something small, but it hurt enough digging into his side to catch his attention.

Here he was about to be devoured and he was worrying over what was in his pocket. He nearly laughed at the irony of it all.

The middle creature lowered it's head and bared it's teeth.

He held up the stick and swung it in it's direction causing it to take a step back and snarl at him.

He flinched and that was when it jumped froward, grabbing one end of the stick and sending him slamming into the rock behind and with a tensing of it's jaws, snapped it between it's jaws.

He held up the small piece of the stick left and grimaced.

The creature jerked it's head, throwing the stick to the side, before it snarled and snapped at him again.

And in return he smacked it in the snout with what was left causing it to yelp and take a few steps back.

The other two tried advancing forward but backed away when their leader let out a low guttural growl that sent ice through his veins.

It's eyes narrowed at him and he swallowed thickly.

It lowered it's head and shoulders once again, it's muscles tensing in preparation and let out a angry snarl.

Something in that moment snapped inside him and he narrowed his eyes at the creature.

'Okay, if that's how you want it..'

He held up the splintered stick like a sword.

If he was going to be dinner...

 

He was going to make sure they worked for it.


	12. Finding Hope and Just In Time, Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there is only one song that I felt fit with the tone of this chapter is from my all time favorite movie. Track 17 from The Clan of The Cave Bear OST. It fits beautifully with this chapter.

Balin slowed as he came upon the door of the Grieving Hall. 'He's alive...Fili's alive...'

That single thought pulled a small smile to his lips.

'If it be true, then one properly of Durin's line will sit upon the throne of Erebor and the people will be prosperous once again.'

He reached a hand to grab the door handle, but stopped short when he heard someone call out his name.

"Balin!"

He turned and was surprised to see both Bofur and Gloin running towards him.

"Master Bofur and Master Gloin. I am sorry I did not see you. If you are requiring help with something, I am afraid I am unable to help you at this moment. I am otherwise occupied."

Bofur stood there, breathing heavily and could only barely speak when he asked, "However are you able to run that fast and NOT be out of breath?"

Balin shrugged, "Dwalin, of course. Now if you two will excuse me?"

He made to turn down the hall, impatient to get to his brother, but was stopped when Bofur next spoke.

"Something's wrong-"

"Out of the way, lads!" A voice called behind them.

Balin, Bofur, and Gloin turned to see that Gloin's brother Oin was jogging up to them, carrying of all things, his doctoring satchel.

Bofur removed his hat with one hand and scratched at his head with the other.

'This is getting stranger and stranger by the minute.'

"Brother! Whatever are you doing here?" Gloin inquired of his elder sibling.

Oin adjusted his ear-horn before replying, rather non-chalantly, "I'm here because Dwalin thinks that young master Fili's still alive! It's nonsense, I say! It's just something ta do with the gases that bodies tend ta give off when they are starting ta decompose."

He gave a nod in the older dwarf's direction, "Ah, Balin! I think I better see ta your brother too, while I'm at it. He might have had a touch too much ta drink again."

All of a sudden the door flies open and Dwalin's face shoots out and his eyes scan the small crowd gathered until they land on his brother.

"Right, all of ye better get in here. Especially you Oin."

They all fell silent as Dwalin held the door open.

They all hesitated for just a moment until a familiar deep voice called out, raspy from disuse.

"Balin?"

They looked to Dwalin in shock.

Dwalin shrugged, "You're not hearing voices, lads. When they first spoke, nearly scared me half ta death, they did."

Balin was the first to come to his senses and he stumbled forward through the door.

There he was, on the same pedestal that his body had been laid to rest upon but he was not laying there, still and lifeless, but rather sitting upright his hands clutching the stone on either side of him for support.

"It cannot be..."

Balin's knees gave and Dwalin had to catch him, wrapping an arm across his shoulders to keep him from crumpling to the floor as his brown eyes locked with the icy blue of a very much alive Thorin Oakenshield.

"Thorin?"

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

He gritted his teeth as the gash in his shoulder burned in white-hot agony. He swallowed down the bile that began to rise up his throat at the sight of the blood dripping down his arm.

The creature jumped forward again and he only had a split second to jab the stick forward.

It let out a rather large yelp as the stick made contact with it's left eye, gouging deep into the socket and before Bilbo could pull it free the creature pulled back sharply and pulled it from his hands, ripping open the blisters that had formed over the course of however long he had been pinned there.

He breathed heavily, swaying back and forth from the blood loss. He pressed one shaking hand to his shoulder and the other to his chest, hissing in pain, and as he watched the creature struggle to remove the splintered branch sticking out of it's eye, blood slowly began to well up from the wounds and drip to the forest floor.

The two Wargs on either side, scenting the fresh blood in the air, began to snap their jaws in excitement, the saliva dripping and pooling below them, and the pupils of their eyes dilating from the bloodlust now coursing through their veins.

The Warg violently shook it's head back and forth and swiped at the stick in it's eye with a paw, trying desperately to remove it, until finally one of it's claws caught upon a knot on the stick and pulled it free with a sickening squelch.

It snarled in anger as it turned back to look at him, the damaged eye hanging from the socket and blood dripping along the side of it's jaw and down its throat.

It bared it's teeth at him, growling low in its throat.

Bilbo swallowed thickly, 'This wasn't good.'

He looked for the stick and found it to be between the middle warg and the warg to the far left.

Not good at all.

It crouched down low, preparing to pounce yet again. This time there was no stick in the way.

This time Bilbo would not be able to stop it.

Definitely not good.

His heart thumped loudly.

It leaped.

Thump-thump.

He scrunched his eyes closed and threw up his hands.

Then everything was silent.

All he could hear was the thudding beating of his heart against his ribs.

'Silence?'

He opened one eye in confusion and then both flew open. His hands fell to either side of him in shock.

The warg that was about to attack him lay on its side, unmoving. The other two were gone. He could faintly hear their whining and yelping as they fled.

"My dear Bilbo. What ever are you doing out here?"

He looked sharply to the left and could nothing but gape open-mouthed at the large man before him. He was astride a large white horse, wrapped in a light grey cloak and holding a staff.

A chord of familiarity coursed through him like lightening but was swallowed by confusion yet again.

"Who-who are you?" He asked shakily.

The large man's panicked face melted into a look of confusion.

"My dear boy, it's me. Gandalf."

And with those words, the world faded into blackness around him, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.


	13. A New Riddle Whispers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that my latest update has been a long wait for you, but I hope it was worth the wait.

Balin stood there in shock, supported by his brother's arms, still not believing his eyes. 

Finally he shook his head and nodded to his brother.

Dwalin's arms dropped as he shakily stepped forward. When he was but a hands-length from Thorin, he reached forward with an equally shaky hand to grip his shoulder, feeling warm, solid flesh tense beneath his palm.

He released a shuddering gasp, "Great Mahal..."

He gave the shoulder a gentle shake, before pulling the once dead king down into a bear hug with a cry.

"You are alive!"

Thorin gave a start at the the very uncharacteristic reaction from his old friend and advisor before grabbing his shoulders and pushing him back to look him in the eye.

"Yes old friend. I do not yet know why I have been sent back, but I am glad to see you all once again, although not all are yet here."

Balin chuckled, "As of right now, we are the only ones who know of your miraculous return."

"Now back up, give them room. I should examine them for any side effects of coming back."

Balin nodded and stepped back, watching as Oin tended to each one of them in turn.

Oin, stepped back, shaking his head in disbelief. "By my beard. They are all as fit as a fiddle. No signs of the  
wounds they sustained at the battle or any damage sustained from being without breath for so long. Its a miracle. A miracle from Mahal himself. "

Bofur fiddled nervously with his hat, "But how can this be? They were stone dead but yesterday."

Fili, who could finally speak clearly, now that his thirst had been quenched by a good flagon of water, answered  
back.

"It was Bilbo."

That news made all the other dwarfs look at him in shock.

"Why do you think that?" Thorin rasped at him.

Fili struggled to sit up, only managing it when Bofur grabbed his arm and pulled him the rest of the way, keeping a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"I saw him briefly, he was standing close to you...he was-he was holding a waterskin over your mouth."

The pause in the sentence made Thorin look at his questioningly. 'He's hiding something.'

Dwalin snorted, "That would explain a lot."

Balin looked sharply at his brother.

Thorin's gaze swiveled sharply to lock with Dwalin's. "Where is Master Baggins now?"

"When I got here, the halfling ran out of here like a warg was nipping at his heels. He wouldn't stop when I called after him, but by then I could hear moving about in here and that is when I found out that Fili was breathing."

Bofur nodded, "But that still don't explain why he didn't remember me at all when I met him outside the gate. He was frightened and bolted right off into the woods."

Balin gasped in shock, "Into the woods?! Bofur, there have been reports of warg packs sniffing about the past few weeks! We must go after him quickly!"

He straightened the collar of his overcoat. "I will go straightaway to King Dain and inquire into a search party to find him."

Thorin shook his head, speaking for the only the third time since waking.

"There is no time, Balin. If the halfling knows why we were brought back than we need to find him as quickly as possible."

Bofur nodded in agreement, "Aye. I'll go."

Gloin placed a hand on Bofur's shoulder, "I'll go with him as well."

Thorin looked at Dwalin curiously.

"Not you Dwalin?"

The gruff warrior shuffled from foot to foot. 

"I am going a different way. I should go and fetch Master Ori. The lad wouldn't want to miss writing this down."

Thorin arched an eyebrow but said nothing as he nodded.

All three dwarfs bowed quickly and then retreated out the door.

Thorin sat there, watching Oin fuss over his nephews with a soft look.

Just then a image flashed through his mind.

Lips pressing against his own, a soft breath caressing his face as a voice whispered to him.

'Goodbye, my nir aval.'

His chest tightened and a strange mixture of happiness and sorrow flooded his being.

Thorin brought two fingers up to shakily press against his lips, a puzzled look on his face.

'What in Durin's name was that?'

/ ~ / ~ / ~ / 

Sandwiched between two pairs of guards, Dain strode down the hall with another advisor looking over the documents from the treasury. 

He nodded. 

'Balin was correct, there is a steady increase being shown, albeit slowly. Good.'

He handed the papers back to the advisor who tucked the papers into the leather satchel at his side. He bowed and with a wave from Dain he scurried off back down the hall.

As the entourage approached the great market, he noticed a large crowd gathered near the gate. 

"What is going on here?!" 

The crowd quickly splits into two to make way for their king, some whispering furiously among themselves and others shaking their heads and making quick hand gestures back and forth.

And when Dain reached the gate, he finally sees the cause of the commotion.

Gandalf was standing beside a beast of a white horse.

"Hail, Gandalf, dwarf-friend. We are honored by your vis-" His speech is cut short by Gandalf.

"This is no time for speeches, old friend, but rather time for a healer instead. Master Baggins is injured. Might I request Master Oin to see to him?"

It is then that Dain finally notices the form laying prone in the wizard's arms and a dread feeling hits him.

He pivots sharply on his feet and faces the two guards behind him, "Go and fetch Oin and tell him that Master Baggins is wounded and needing tending to immediately."

They jumped when Dain added a loud, "NOW!"

"Your majesty, we know where Oin is. We can fetch him for you quickly."

Dain turned to face the voice and found Gloin standing among the crowd.

Dain nodded, "Then by all mean, go and get him."

When they both scurried off, he turned back to the crowd and spoke.

"Someone see to Master Gandalf's horse! Do you need a guide to his rooms, Master Wizard?"

The wizard strode past the King, shaking his head, "No. No need. I know the way."

Dain grunted in confusion at the odd look the wizard was giving the hobbit. It was as if he was trying to solve a particuliarly difficult puzzle, but not all the pieces were there.

It was most peculiar.

From a balcony overlooking the market, a figure casting a familar star shape shadow faded from the stone below.  
/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

Bofur and Gloin nodded their goodbyes to Dwalin when they reached the hall that led to the library before continuing on to the marketplace.

When the two of them emerged out into the great open space they noticed a tall figure standing beside a rather wornout horse surrounded by a large crowd of dwarfs.

And standing right in front of him was none other than Dain himself.

It wasn't until he pushed his way through the crowd that he finally saw the small form in Gandalf's arms.

'Bilbo!'

Dread filled him and he feared the worse until he noticed the hobbit's hand twitch.

He gave a sigh of relief.

Bilbo was safe, albeit a little worse for wear at the moment.

"Go and fetch Oin and tell him that Master Baggins is wounded and needing tending to immediately. Now!"

Gloin took a chance and jumped into the conversation.

"Your majesty, we know where Oin is. We can fetch him for you quickly."

Dain paused for a moment and both the dwarfs held their breath.

Finally Dain answered, "Then by all means go and get him."

They quickly turned and starting running back to the Grieving Hall with news that held both good and bad for them all.


	14. News and A Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I inadvertently ended up throwing a bit of Nori backstory into this chapter...I hope you like it. 
> 
> I listened to True Strength by John Dreamer while writing this.

They quickly turned and started running back down the hall they just emerged from.

 

Bofur clutched his hat to his head, trusting his feet to carry him back to the Grieving Hall as his mind was so preoccupied with the image of an unconscious and bloodied Bilbo.

 

'Oh my friend, I hope Gandalf was in time.'

 

He turned his head to look at Gloin but quickly stopped.

 

Gloin had stopped and was bent over, gasping to catch his breath.

 

"Master Gloin? Ye alright?"

 

"J-just go. I-I'll be there when this stitch in my side has stopped." 

 

"If'n yer sure."

 

Gloin just waved a hand at him and Bofur nodded in turn and started to run again.

 

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

 

Dwalin had fetched Ori as he had said he would and it was quite comical when Ori stumbled forward, and then slumped back against Dwalin passed out.

 

Thorin smirked at the tender way his friend held the young scribe, but a ache in his chest wiped it from his face.

 

He jolted forward grabbing his chest but shook his head at Balin, who reached out for him.

 

"It was nothing, my friend. It has passed already."

 

'Just what was that?' He thought to himself.

 

Balin still held a worried look on his face, "If you are sure."

 

He nodded just as the door flew open to reveal Bofur, who looked worse for wear.

 

Balin smiled widely, "Ah! There you are. What news do you have, Master Bofur?"

 

Bofur twisted his hat in his hands, "Its Gandalf! He just arrived..."

 

Thorin snorted, "I don't care about the meddling wizard at the moment, what of Master Baggins? Did you get a search party sent out?"

 

Bofur shifted from foot to foot, "That's the thing, ye see, Gandalf found Bilbo...and..well-"

 

"Out with it!"

 

"Bilbo's been hurt bad, real bad from the looks of it."

 

Thorin jumped down from his seat and stumbled catching himself with his hands on the bench before he could crumple to the floor.

 

He may be alive again but it seems as if it will take some time before his strength comes back fully.

 

Balin grabbed his shoulder to steady him further.

 

"Easy there! You need to rest, Thorin! We will get you settled into your own rooms and then-"

 

"No! See that Fili and Kili are settled into beds and fed. Bofur?"

 

The miner twisted his hat nervously.

 

"You will take me to Mr. Baggins."

 

"But-"

 

"Now!"

 

Dwalin shook his head. 

 

"You might want to rethink this, Thorin."

 

The newly resurrected dwarf turned slowly to face his fellow warrior, who by now had set the scribe gently down, propping his head against the wall.

 

"Why?"

 

He crossed his arms before speaking.

 

"Dain."

 

The name of the current King Under the Mountain struck him like lightning and he slumped back into the stone slab behind him. In his haste to see Bilbo he had entirely forgotten about Dain. If Dain were to see him now, more than likely his being alive once again could cause a rift to form between them and another war could result.

 

No.

 

He shook his head. He would not let that happen.

 

"You are right, my friend. Dain cannot see me or know of my being alive. Not just yet."

 

Balin gaped at him, "Thorin?" 

 

"I will not see our people without a home any longer, Balin. Erebor must be rebuilt and to do so must remain in peace. My reappearance would possibly hinder that. So let Dain have Erebor for the time being." 

 

Balin nodded solemnly.

 

"So what will you do?"

 

Thorin did not answer for he was deep in thought. 

 

What should he do? 

 

He realized now that he still had much to learn to be considered a worthy king. Falling under the influence of the Gold-sickness had proven that.

 

Perhaps this is the true reason he came back. This must be a second chance from Mahal himself.

 

He was going to not take this gift for granted.

 

He leaned forward, smirking at the other dwarfs in the room.

 

"Fili is the only one that Dain thinks is still living. Let him still think that. Kili and I, on the other hand, will have need of disguises and new names."

 

Dwalin nodded his head, agreeing with his plan.

Kili looked between them both in shock.

 

"Do you think it wise to hide the truth from Dain?"

 

"You do not know Dain like I do, Kili. He could very well feel threatened by Fili, we do not need to give him more grounds for suspicion by letting him know we are all three living."

Kili nodded in acceptance.

 

Dwalin clapped Kili on the shoulder and looked back at Thorin.

 

"It should be easy enough ta give ye new names, but disguising those features of yers will be difficult. Yer faces are too well-known. And there is the matter of what ta do with the burial. We will not be able ta explain the absence of your bodies without telling Dain the truth, which we cannae do."

 

"Then we will have to come up with a plan, but first we focus on our disguises."

 

"You could always put different braids into your hair."

 

Oin offered.

 

"Or a hat?" Bofur added.

 

"I know what you could do." Ori piped up from his spot on the floor.

 

Dwalin arched an eyebrow at him.

 

Ori blushed under his gaze.

He stood up and brushed the dust from his clothes before speaking again.

 

"I remember a story Nori once told me. In his travels he came across a sect of dwarves called the Faceless. They wear hooded veils all the time to hide their features. He said they never show their face and to ask them to do so would result in death."

"How are we so sure this will work?"

Balin questioned Ori.

Ori smiled widely, "Nori ran into them when he was traveling through the Harad. Since they reside that far away, we could completely fabricate an entire life for Thorin and no one would question it as they-"

 

"...Have never seen one of them before."

 

Thorin finished, quite impressed with the scribe.

 

Dwalin shook his head.

 

"There is no way around it, Balin, unless you want them shaving their beards and cutting their hair."

 

"Dwalin! That is nothing to make light of!"

 

Balin scolded his younger brother.

 

"He is right, Balin. This is the only way."

 

He turned to Ori and Dwalin.

 

"Speak to Nori and see if he can "acquire" some of their clothing."

 

He then turned to Bofur.

 

"Once that is done, Bofur, you will take me to Mr. Baggins."


	15. Dreams and A New Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori finally makes his appearance. And Thorin begins his plan.
> 
> Song for the first part is 'Forever In My Dreams' by Two Steps From Hell. For the second part the song is 'The Legend Begins' by Audiomachine.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by pitch black darkness.

'Where am I?'

He struggled to move but he found that he couldn't.

A sense of fear and dread filled him. This couldn't be happening. 

First the Wargs and then the wizard and now this?!

What was going on?

He panicked and began to struggle harder but couldn't budge even a inch.

"Sanûrzud."

A deep voice whispered to him.

He stilled at the voice.

Why did it sound so familiar to him?

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Again the voice spoke, but louder this time.

"Sanûrzud."

He was confused by the word.

"What? What does that mean!?"

There was a loud crack and bright light filled his eyes and he found himself standing on the edge of a cliff.

And then in another flash the ground beneath him crumbled and he was falling.

A scream ripped from his throat until all of a sudden he stopped.

"I've got you. Hold on."

It was the same voice from before.

Relief flooded his being.

"Thank you. Oh thank you."

He looked up into the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

He jolted out of bed in a cold sweat grabbing his chest in pain.

'What was that? Who was that?'

He had never seen such blue eyes ever.

And he didn't know why his heart hurt at the thought of them.

"Sanûrzud."

He never noticed the being of light fading into the stone behind him.

The door to his room bangs open and a very tall figure hurries in.

It is not until the figure steps into the candlelight that he sees their face.

It was the wizard.

"Bilbo! Are you alright?"

He looks up at him with confusion in his eyes.

"I'm sorry but why-ever do you keep calling me Bilbo?"

Gandalf shook his head, closing his eyes in sorrow.

'Then it is as I feared. I should not have left.' He thought to himself.

He hissed in pain as the pressure upon his hands had built to a painful level.

When he looked down he found that his hands were bound in thick bandages. He lifted them and placed them in his lap to ease the pressure.

The wizard knelt down beside him and placed a hand on the hobbit's shoulder.

"You have hurt your hands but they will be right as rain in no time. For you are under the care of the finest Dwarvish healer here in the East."

"Dwarves? Whatever are Dwarves?"

Gandalf gave a quick nod, his mind was made up.

"You, my boy, will know when you see one."

He stood up quickly and turned to leave the room, but stopped when a small voice called out to him.

"Wait! Where are you going? You can't just leave me here!"

Gandalf turned back to look at him, a small smile on his face.

"Do not worry. You are safe, my boy, no harm will come to you here. I assure you. I must go speak to someone about your condition."

"Alright, but don't be gone too long. This place frightens me."

Gandalf nodded again before he left the room closing the door gently behind him.

"Oh, my dear Bilbo. What has happened to you?"

 

/ ~ / ~ / ~ /

 

"You don't know how lucky you are that I still have these."

Nori stated, handing a bundle of clothes to Thorin and to Kili as soon as he entered the room.

It had been easy enough for Dwalin and Ori to find him as Ori had memorized every single one of his hiding spots. Much to Nori's displeasure and Dwalin's delight.

He seemed to not be fazed at all by the fact that he was talking to two dwarves that had once been dead.

Ori looked at his older brother in confusion.

"Why do you still have them?"

Nori had the good sense to look a little sheepish. He scratched his head before replying.

"Well, ya see. I was planning on going back one of these days if-"

"If Dori threw you out again?"

Nori shrugged.

"It was only a fall-back. Good thing I didn't because our great and not-so dead leader and his equally not-so dead nephew need them now. Just don't ruin them, alright? Never know when I'll be needing to escape."

He directed that last bit at the two.

Thorin nodded.

 

"You have my thanks, Nori, son of Zori. As well as all of you. I could not have done this without any of you."

 

Kili nodded in agreement.

Nori shook his head.

 

"Now that is something you are going to have to stop doing. The Faceless don't 'thank' people or even apologize as well. What you need to get used to doing is being rude and pushy. Should be quite easy for ya, seeing as yer both royalty and all that. Ow! What was that for?"

 

He looked at his brother who was currently glaring at him.

 

"Now who's being rude?"

 

The thief crossed his arms.

 

"If they're going to dress the part, they might as well act it too. They're trying to disguise themselves, Ori, not play dress up."

 

Dwalin groaned in frustration and put a hand on Ori's shoulder.

 

"As much as I am going to regret saying this. He's right, Ori."

 

Thorin nodded.

 

"I agree. Now we need to come up with a name for my new persona."

 

Nori perked up at that.

 

"Easy enough. Azanul."

 

The four turned to look at the thief.

 

He shrugged.

 

"What? One of the dwarves I met was named Azanul. It means 'Of the Shadows.' I thought it would fit the situation as it were. And don't bother with trying to come up with a father's name for ya either, they use their mother's instead."

 

Ori laughed.

 

Dwalin shook his head in amusement, a small smile on his lips.

 

Thorin nodded in agreement.

 

"It will work perfectly." "Now we need a name for Kili. Does it have to be similar? To show that they come from the same family?" Ori asked his brother. "No, so it doesn't matter what you choose for Kili." This time the name came from an unlikely source. "Kheluz." They all turned to look at Fili in surprise. Kili smiled at his brother. "Strength?" The golden-haired dwarf nodded. "You have always been strong Kili even if you think otherwise." Kili inhaled sharply before speaking, his voice thick with emotion. "Thanks Fee." "Anytime Kee." Thorin smiled at his nephews before he turned to Nori. "You said that they only use their mother's name for their forebear title, correct?"

 

Nori nodded.

 

"Yeah. They were founded by a dwarrowdam so they do that in honor of her memory."

 

Thorin smirked.

 

"Then Azanul and Kheluz, sons of Ranul it is."

 

The smile slipped from Dwalin's face at that name, replacing it with one of with shock.

 

"Ranul?! Are you so sure you should be using a name from your family line?"

 

"Ranul is my great-grandmother on my mother's side. No one will pay attention to it."

 

Nori rubbed his hands together with barely contained glee.

 

"Now then, lets get you two ready."

 

Thorin and Kili shared a look, both swallowing in trepidation.

 

What were they getting themselves into?


End file.
